


The hungry and the hunted

by Ferrera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Blood, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Demon!Dean, Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pining Sam Winchester, Power Dynamics, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:43:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferrera/pseuds/Ferrera
Summary: “You’re messing with me,” Sam states, trying to keep his voice even, “you’re playing some sick game to make sure I won’t come after you again.”Dean gives him a wide, borderline manic grin, making Sam’s stomach clench with nausea.“Thatwasmy plan,” Dean says, eyes gleaming dangerously, “but Sammy, now that you picked up that knife...” He grins, tilts his head up a little, exposing his throat. “Why don’t you put it to good use?”





	The hungry and the hunted

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little _what-if-Cas-hadn't-showed_ :)
> 
> Title from Jungleland by Bruce Springsteen.

“Do it,” Dean says, clenching his jaw as he glares at Sam. “It’s all you.”  


Sam’s breathing hard, trying to keep his hand still, but the blade is trembling against Dean’s throat ceaselessly. Dean bares his teeth, smirks in a way that makes the hairs on Sam’s neck stand up. Sam’s sure his brother must be able to see the fear on his face, feel just how much he's shaking.  


Dean’s so calm, so fucking sure Sam doesn’t have it in him to kill his big brother, knows Sam could never get himself to slit Dean’s throat. Sam’s seen him like this before— on the outside, his brother always looks calm and composed with a knife to his throat or a gun pointed at his chest, but he’d never been this cocky, never this provoking before, looking like he doesn’t even feel the sting of the blade pressing against his skin, and oh no, _fuck_ —  


Panic rises in Sam’s chest, climbing up his throat. Dean must see the realization dawning on his face, says, “Did you really think that bitch’s knife would work on me, Sammy?” and Sam doesn’t know what to do, keeps holding the knife to Dean’s throat just to buy time, but he can’t fucking think with the threat of his demon brother about to kill him except— Dean’s not gonna kill him, he realizes, would’ve done so already if he’d wanted to, and maybe— maybe he isn’t simply trying to escaping either, knows that Sam doesn’t stand a chance, unable to drag him back to the dungeon one-armed, so he’s just—  


“You’re messing with me,” Sam states, trying to keep his voice even, “you’re playing some sick game to make sure I won’t come after you again.”  


Dean gives him a wide, borderline manic grin, making Sam’s stomach clench with nausea.  


“That _was_ my plan,” Dean says, eyes gleaming dangerously, “but Sammy, now that you picked up that knife...” He grins, tilts his head up a little, exposing his throat. “Why don’t you put it to good use?”  


Sam feels the blood draining from his face as another wave of nausea washes over him, mouth running dry. No no _no_ —  


“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean says, tilting his head to the right a little as he licks his lips, “why don’t you cut me just a little right here and I’ll let you have a taste, little brother.”  


Sam tries to withdraw the knife, but then Dean’s hand is on his wrist, keeping the blade pressed to his own throat. His grip is strong, fingers tightening around Sam’s hand, keeping Sam from dropping the blade.  


Dean clicks his tongue as he looks at Sam with that wicked, sickening look in his eyes. “Don’t shy away now, Sammy. You wanted to use that knife on me, didn’t you? Then do it.”  


“Stop it, Dean,” Sam hisses, eyes narrowing. “We can still finish the treatments,” he tries, hoping he can somehow get through to his brother trapped inside, but he instantly gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as Dean just throws his head back and laughs at him.  


“Awh, Sammy,” Dean mocks, glaring at Sam, tongue peeking out again, “You really think you can cure me? C’mon, little brother, give it up. I told you. I _like_ the disease.” Dean’s eyes narrow, his lips curling into another vicious grin. “And I think you like it too, Sammy. C’mon, cut me. I bet you’d like a taste.” He’s pulling the knife towards his artery and Sam can see his pulse speeding up under the thin layer of skin.  


“No,” Sam says, trembling with the effort of keeping the blade from breaking the skin, “ _no_ , Dean, you’re the one who’s gonna get another couple doses of blood,” but _fuck_ , there’s just no way he can drag Dean back to the dungeon, not unless—  


“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Sammy,” Dean says, his voice playful. “Have you forgotten how good it felt to be hooked on demon blood?”  


Sam hasn’t. He hadn’t thought about it for a long time, but he hadn’t forgotten— he still remembers what it felt like to feel so strong, so powerful. Still remembers how dirty, how tainted it made him feel as well, how much it clouded his judgement and made him do things he’d eventually regret. _Think_ _of_ _that_ , he tells himself, _the blood might help you to overcome Dean now, but you’re not gonna get get your brother back if you’re all hopped up yourself.  
_

“C’mon, little brother,” Dean taunts, “we both know how crazy you were for that filthy bitch’s blood. But now, Sammy...” Dean’s tongue peeks out again, wetting his lower lip, eyes twinkling dangerously as if they’re about to turn black again. “Now you can have a taste of your own brother’s blood.”  


Sam’s holding himself as far away from Dean as he can, trying to hide the effects his brother’s provocative looks and lewd tone have on him, but by the smug look on Dean’s face, he can tell it’s in vain— he knows Dean can see the way his pupils must be dilating, can hear Sam’s breathing speeding up, hell, his demon brother can probably hear his heart beating in his throat and his blood rushing through his veins.  


“You’re not my brother,” Sam spits out, jaw clenching tight.  


“Oh, Sammy. Maybe _this_ is not what it used to be,” he says as he taps his temple, “for the better, I’d say. But this body...” His tongue flicks out again as he runs a hand down his chest and cups his crotch. “Still the same.”  


Sam swallows hard. He feels his heartbeat speeding up even more at Dean’s obscene manners, stomach clenching with nausea and sick, misplaced excitement. His hand is still shaking, even in Dean’s firm grip, the blade leaving faint red lines across his throat.  


“C’mon, Sammy. Can’t tell me you don’t want to. I know you used to get a hard-on drinking from that bitch,” Dean spits, squeezing Sam’s hand even tighter, and past the humiliation and shame Sam can’t help but think _even like this, he’s still jealous of Ruby_.  


“Dean,” Sam pants, “I know you’re still in there somewhere. I can—”  


“Now tell me, Sammy,” Dean continues, nodding down towards Sam’s crotch and fuck, _no_ — “what’s that for? All too eager to taste demon blood again? Or is that just for your big brother?” With his free hand, Dean reaches down between them and palms Sam’s traitorous dick, and as Sam flinches, Dean wrenches the knife from his hand. He holds out his forearm, slices the blade across his skin, blood seeping down his arm.  


“Drink, little brother,” Dean says as he looks straight at Sam. He clenches his fist, more blood running down his forearm. Sam briefly closes his eyes, tries to will away the hunger, the sick urge to put his mouth to Dean’s skin and _drink_.  


“Come on, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, “I know you remember how good it felt to have less inhibitions, feel less restraint. I don’t want to be _cured_ , Sam, and I think you understand. In fact, I think you want it just as bad, to feel free of guilt and shame, not having to hold back anymore.”  


“I’m not that person anymore,” Sam retorts, but it sounds pathetic even to his own ears. His mouth is watering at the sight of Dean’s blood dripping down his arm, the thought of tasting it, his very own brother’s blood.  


Dean grins as he shakes his head. “God, look at you, Sammy. I know how hungry you are. Come on, little brother, drink. It could be so good. Just the two of us, doing everything we’ve always wanted.”  


It’s insane, how much it feels like it’s truly his brother talking; how even like this, Dean still wants to be with him, if only he can get him to see things the same way.  


“No,” Sam pants, his breathing ragged, “ _no_ , not like this.” _This is why we can’t have nice things, we’re both so thoroughly screwed—  
_

Dean reaches for him, cups his cheek with his free hand, the knife still firmly clenched in his other hand.  
  
  
Sam can smell the blood seeping from the cut in his arm even though the wound is healing already, making his dick grow even harder. Dean leans into Sam, pressing their bodies together, and _fuck,_ he’s hard too, his lips parting as they press against each other, a glimpse of tongue visible as he looks at Sam through half-lidded eyes.  


“You know we won’t ever have this if we’re both sane,” Dean murmurs, his mouth inches away from Sam’s. “There’ll always be somethin’ holding us back, always somethin’ keepin’ us from giving in to _this_.” He bucks his hips, rubbing his hard dick against Sam’s. “C’mon, Sammy, give it up,” he murmurs as he keeps grinding against Sam. Sam watches his mouth slacken and his eyes fluttering closed as they press together just right and _God_ , how good it must be to have this without all that shame and guilt Sam feels himself drowning in.  


He’s had to face his former addiction various times over the years, but he’d never felt the urge to give in so strong until now— all those times before, what kept him from giving in was telling himself how he’d only push Dean away; recalling the disappointment in Dean’s eyes when he’d failed to stay away from the blood, the disgust on Dean’s face the times he’d seen Sam with blood smeared around his mouth.  


All of that had been enough to keep him clean for years now.  


But now—  


Dean brings the knife up to his mouth, his eyes locked with Sam’s as he licks his own blood from the blade.  


“The blood and a kiss, Sammy. Can’t make you a better offer.”  
  


Sam’s never tasted anything sweeter.  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! There's ofc quite a lot of demon!Dean fic out there already, but I still felt like I couldn't find _just_ what I was looking for. Cross-posted to [tumblr](https://saintedevote.tumblr.com/post/186428217919/do-it-dean-says-clenching-his-jaw-as-he-glares) if you'd like to save/reblog.


End file.
